Summoned a Hero But Got a Villain Instead-Chapter 104: A God Toying with a Mortal

The spectral form of Edgar stood silently at Dante’s side.

A pure, dark silhouette against the bright sand of the arena.

Its empty, violet eyes were fixed on the living legend who stood opposite them.

The information flowed into Dante’s mind. Not a list of words, but a flood of cold, hard data.

Name: Lucaris Thalric (Human)

Weapon: Warhammer

Affinity: Gravity, Impact

God’s Blessing: Veil of the Vanquisher• Grants complete invisibility for 30 seconds• Cooldown: 30 seconds

Ultimate Strike: Cataclysm Drive

When Lucaris slams his warhammer down, the strike compresses gravity at the point of impact. Then detonates outward in an implosion-explosion combo. Creates a localized black hole that pulls enemies in, crushes them, then releases a shockwave that levels everything in a radius.

Dante processed the information in an instant.

’Well,’ he thought, a slow, cold smile touching his lips. ’That’s why he’s the strongest in here. Well, precisely, was the strongest.’

His gaze swept over Lucaris’s powerful, scarred form.

’It’ll be great to add him to my collection.’

Lucaris, who’d been waiting with a warrior’s patient stillness, finally spoke. His voice was a low, rough growl that carried easily across the sand.

"Boy, if you’re not attacking, then I will. So here I come."

He didn’t wait for a reply.

He charged.

He wasn’t a blur of motion like the other champions. He was a landslide. An unstoppable force of nature. His heavy, steel-plated boots pounded against the sand. Each step shook the very ground.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

He raised his massive warhammer high. Its heavy head seemed to drink the very light from the arena.

Dante didn’t move. He just stood there—a lone figure against the coming storm. A vicious, predatory smile on his face.

Lucaris brought the hammer down.

It was a strike meant to shatter mountains. To end the fight before it had even begun. The air itself seemed to scream as the hammer descended.

And then the world went silent.

The roar of the crowd, the beating of their own hearts—all of it stopped.

Dante had raised his one good hand.

And he’d caught the hammer.

He held the massive, descending weapon in his palm. Its unstoppable momentum brought to a dead, absolute halt.

The ground beneath his feet didn’t tremble. His arm didn’t buckle.

He’d caught it as easily as a child catching a ball.

Everyone froze. The cheers died in their throats.

Lucaris stared, his ancient, glacier-blue eyes wide with pure, uncomprehending shock.

"Boy," he breathed, his voice rough and disbelieving. "So... you really are a threat. Guess I’ll have to use my full strength."

But before he could even complete the sentence, Dante tightened his grip.

CRUNCH!

The head of the warhammer—a solid block of enchanted steel crumbled in his hand. It didn’t just break. It shattered, dissolving into fine, grey dust that drifted away on the silent arena breeze.

Lucaris stared at the empty handle in his hands. Then back at Dante.

"What?" he whispered, his voice full of dawning, terrible horror. "How in the hell...? What are you?"

He stumbled backward. His warrior’s confidence, forged in a hundred battles, completely shattered.

Dante’s smile widened. It was a terrible, beautiful, utterly merciless thing.

"Don’t embarrass me now," he said, his voice a low, mocking purr. "Whatever your Goddess’s blessing was, it’s nothing compared to mine."

In the next instant, Lucaris vanished.

He’d activated his Veil of the Vanquisher.

Dante stood his ground.

He felt something. A force. A heavy, crushing impact slammed into his side—a blow that should’ve sent him flying. 𝗳𝗿𝐞𝕖𝘄𝗲𝕓𝗻𝚘𝚟𝕖𝐥.𝚌𝕠𝕞

He barely moved. Took a single, small step back.

He didn’t feel anything. His Anodyne State was active. The pain was just a distant, unimportant signal that his mind chose to ignore.

He felt more of it. A flurry of invisible, powerful blows began to rain down on his body. He knew Lucaris was trying his best, somewhere in the unseen world around him.

A drop of blood, bright and crimson, appeared on his cheek from a particularly vicious invisible strike.

Drip.

But before it could even fall, the wound sealed itself. His Somatic Flow—his instant regeneration erased the damage as if it had never been there at all.

Dante smiled.

But the audience saw something very different.

To the crowd, it was a slaughter. They saw their hero, the living legend, vanish. And then they saw the boy from another world begin to be beaten senseless by an invisible force.

He was thrown back. His body jerking with the force of unseen blows.

"He’s toying with him!" someone from the crowd yelled. "It’s a matter of a few seconds!"

On the podium, Dante’s team watched in horror.

"No!" Lana snarled, her hand tightening on her staff. "That old bastard is cheating!"

Masha’s face was a pale mask of furious anger. They both looked like they were about to break the rules and storm the arena themselves.

But the ones who truly understood what was happening—the ones who could see beyond the simple, brutal illusion of the fight were on their feet. Pressed against the railing of the royal box. Their faces masks of pure, soul-shaking shock.

The headmaster’s jaw had dropped.

He thought, his mind reeling. ’What is that? He’s having no effect from the beating! Wait... he’s not even going back on the attacks now!’

Beside him, Clara was confused.

"Dad," she said, her voice small and worried. "Hero Lucaris will kill him at this rate. Are you sure you’ll let it happen?"

"Dear Clara," the headmaster said, his voice a low, awed whisper. His eyes never left the arena. "You’ve mistaken one thing. Look closely at the battle."

"Look at the boy," he continued, his voice barely audible. "He’s not being thrown back anymore. He’s not even flinching."

"And look at his face. Is that the face of a man who’s losing?"

In the royal box, Lord Rowan was standing proud. He knew Lucaris would soon end the boy’s life. He turned to share a triumphant look with his fellow leaders.

And he froze.

The Elf Queen. The Vampire King. The Arch-Sage Elira. They were all standing, their hands gripping the railing. Their faces pale with terror that was far beyond simple concern.

"There’s no way," the Elf Queen whispered, her voice soft and disbelieving. "That boy..."

"He’s not taking any damage," the Vampire King finished for her. His crimson eyes wide with dawning, terrible understanding.

"Lucaris is unleashing his full power. And the boy is just... standing there."

"It’s not that he’s not taking any damage," Elira corrected, her own voice a trembling, academic whisper. "He is. I can see the impacts. I can feel the force."

"But he’s healing. Instantly. Perfectly. As if the blows never landed at all."

They were the only ones who could see it. The truth. The terrible, impossible truth.

They weren’t watching a duel.

They were watching a devil toying with a mortal.